


Living Hive

by Initial_Non-Applicable_ (Top7879)



Series: The Magnus Archives AU [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Abuse, Living Hive!Harry Potter, Not Beta Read, Not Really Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29881371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Top7879/pseuds/Initial_Non-Applicable_
Summary: To be honest, he probably should have chosen those worms, but those Cicadas of his have a better chance at giving him wings.
Series: The Magnus Archives AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2196969
Kudos: 7





	Living Hive

To be perfectly honest, Harry would have been fine becoming one with the earthworms. On one level you can say he already was, but he's more cicadas now then worms.

When Harry was young he was made to garden. To dig and plant beautiful flowers in the yard. It wasn't like what others considered being  _ made _ , when they “had to” do something it's something with no real-  _ painful-  _ consequences if the task doesn't get done. With Harry however, any idea of refusal was quickly dismissed by the fact that his aunt and uncle could and were  _ willing  _ to leave him without the minuscule scraps they gave him and physically hurting him.

Harry grew to not mind the garden, it kept him out of sight of his family (which was a positive for them both), and he grew a fondness for every flower he planted and bug he saw. It made him feel less lonely then when he goes to school, stuck with people who hurt him or don't fully understand how Harry lives. But in the garden he can explain everything to the flowers and bugs and sometimes he can feel an  _ understanding  _ between them.

Now the  _ bugs-  _ they were two constants. Sure there were ladybugs, other beetles and bees, but they came and went in their own time- they two that were always there were the earthworms that squirmed beneath the ground that tended to show themselves when Harry dug in and the sound of cicadas on the trees.

To be honest, he probably  _ should have _ chosen those worms. He was-is-, for a lack of a better term  _ connected  _ to them.

His aunt and uncle never liked him, Harry always knew that. However, he never felt like his life was in danger, not until he was left bleeding in that garden of his. It was naive of him. Or maybe childish is the right word, children never really fear for their life, because they don't have a clear (as clear as it could be) understanding of death and that it could happen to anyone, including you.

Harry was left scared, they had made him bleed before but nothing like this. A deep cut in his chest that had blood dripping down into the dirt. Seeping into the ground, flavoring the worms meal. Harry was oh, so scared, but he couldn't help to think at least he had the worms for company. And the cicadas.

Something changed that day. The worms started to be  _ hungry _ . Harry had no idea what he was doing, not really, but when the next time he got a cut and saw the worms...  _ drinking  _ from him he knew _ something has changed _ . He didn't mind it, he just adjusted himself and his routine. Whenever he got hurt to the point of bleeding, he let the blood drip down into the worms' dirt. At some point they started to multiply, when before there were barely a handful of worms that he would find in his garden, now there were a handful of worms he dug up in each spade full. Harry tried his best not to hurt them and spread his bleeding around the full garden everyday, but winter approached and there was no reason he could give his aunt in uncle to let him outside into the garden. Without seeming suspicious that is.

There was no real reason to worry though, because Harry started to have a squirming feeling in his chest that  _ he knew _ resonated with the worms beneath the house, snow, and hard ground of winter.

And when the fall and spring came, he went back to the garden and things went back to the way they were before. Until Harry's second scare- this time he wasn't in his garden. He wasn't anywhere classically dangerous either, he was on a branch looking for cicadas during recesses. Some kid had kicked the ball hard and made Harry fall down, which normally would just be painful but Harry fell in a way that made his head hit first. He was cradling-  _ protecting  _ a cicada from the fall, and when he finally managed to turn his head he saw the ones to kick the ball were his cousin and his friends.

Harry was sure they were going to let him die, after all they never liked him in the same way his aunt and uncle never liked him. So Harry was there, bleeding in the worms' dirt when the bugs around started  _ speaking  _ to him. Or maybe they were always speaking to him, and the jostle to his head finally let him  _ hear _ them. The worms were the loudest, squirming in time to that feeling in his chest, and there were so many of them hidden by grass and a thin layer of dirt- but the beetles,  _ the cicadas _ spoke to him too, in a soft whisper.

There was only one real reason Harry didn't choose the worms. It wasn’t even a reason, just a passing fancy. His last thoughts were about how nice it would be to fly far,  _ far _ , away from his cupboard, and sadly -while he knew that he would gain some sort of freedom with the worms- the cicadas wings are what made him turn towards them in that moment.

Harry Potter was pronounced dead a few hours later while he was rushed to the hospital, but his body never made it to the grave site to be buried. In his place was a jumble of insect wings instead.


End file.
